


I Walked with You Once Upon a Dream

by afullrevolution



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Slow Build, no!fire, seer!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afullrevolution/pseuds/afullrevolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has already seen his future and is confused about his past (it's all a bit like dreaming). Scott is just trying to help and Derek doesn't know what is going on, but is more than willing to go with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I know you

**Author's Note:**

> Rating for language (because I have a foul mouth) and reference to sex. As usual, **not beta-read**. 
> 
> In short - the fire never happened, the family's still alive, but Derek, Laura, and Peter live away from the rest in a university town. Derek features as a baker, Laura a bookstore owner, and Peter is a Professor (that I ended up never talking about). Scott is a really good friend and Stiles thinks life's great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some editing. Because mistakes were mentioned. And then I altered a few words. Just a warning.

-First Contact, August 21-

There are lots of firsts when you've known someone for years, but the first first between Derek with Stiles took Derek unawares. Stiles less so. 

For Derek, sitting in a 24 hour diner with his first cup of tea in the morning, the meeting was completely unexpected. It was supposed to be a normal morning-after. It certainly started that way, with his sister across from him sharing the misery of too many squirrels and his uncle looking like he was propped up in the corner. Full-fucking-moons. 

Point being, that when Stiles was suddenly just there next to the table, talking as he slid in next to Derek, Derek stared at him while Laura's eyes blinked wider in surprise. Even Peter's eyes opened half way.

“Dude, man, don't I just know it. Too many of those squirrels. Not that I ate squirrels last night. They never have been quite my taste. I prefer rabbit, really. Stew - not raw. With soda bread preferably. Did you all already order? I was out trying to walk off some insomnia, saw that moon and figured you all would be here. So...” as he talked, Stiles reached out and put his left arm on Derek's shoulder, leaning in closer and looking for the world as if was normal for him to be reaching for Derek's tea. When Derek stiffened, Stiles paused and actually looked carefully at the three of them staring at him. Derek was rigid, feeling claws just start to extend, as Stiles turned red, stood, and walked out of the dinner mumbling something about sleeping and medication.

Peter and Laura turned to Derek as if he should somehow know something. Laura's eyebrows shot up inquiringly as Peter actually voiced the question "if there was perhaps something that Derek had neglected to share with his betters." 

None of them had ever seen him before and certainly didn't remember his scent around town. 

It was only another four hours before Derek heard Stiles' name for the first time and it came multiple times in succession. A werewolf, bitten by the stink of him, turned up at Laura's bookstore reeking of the guy and introducing himself as Scott. The smell of Stiles interested Derek more than the introduction. By the look on her face, Laura had the same feeling. 

But Scott was launching into a speech, clearly memorized, requesting permission to live in the area while attending university. The exactness of the protocol bespoke careful training. As did how amazingly well put together he was for the day after a full moon. Laura shared an expressive look with Derek, making Derek feel once again as he should somehow have the answers. He shrugged and the kid - Scott - looked concerned by the interaction. 

Scott shuffled his feet and put forward that “Stiles said it should be fine?” as if that should make everything ok, as if he was anxious to get this done. Laura smiled brightly at him, and did Derek know that smile. She wanted something and she was going to pull teeth to get it. It always made him cringe when it was directly at him. 

And sure enough, there she went, patting Scott’s shoulder in just such a way as to run her hand across it, leaving her scent on him, just enough to piss off another Alpha if there was one, before she hustled him into the back, leaving Derek to man the front of the store. Because there were always just so many customers at ten in the morning. 

Derek leaned against the counter, listening as she asked Scott about his home, his alpha, and his pack. 

But for all that Scott exhibited signs of thorough training, he didn't appear to know much about werewolves outside of being one. In providing answers Laura's questions, he kept pausing, checking (Laura told Derek later) what appeared to be notes written on his arm and tending towards ambiguity. Most of what he said boiled down in the end to "Stiles would know". It was like listening to mantra of unconcerned ignorance. Derek had to concentrate on counting his breaths to keep himself from imagining slamming the kid into a wall.

Laura always claimed he had a temper.

But then Laura had the patience of a goddess. She didn't lay a hand on Scott, just asked “Is Stiles your Alpha?”

“Well. I mean. Sure, sort of? He said you ..." Scott trailed off. "I think that right now I'm just ... I don't have one ... but he claims that I'll be ... you see, he's usually really confusing and what he says is usually premised on things I don’t know yet. So it ... he only makes sense afterwards, as you know … or don't yet … But he's always right.” 

“Okaaaay then. He’s the one who trained you?” Derek could hear Scott’s agreement before Laura went on with “Stiles is someone from home?”

“Oh no. I couldn't leave him alone. That would never work for either of us. I mean, it isn't healthy for a wolf to be alone and he can't really get through the day without...” Scott trailed off again and Derek could smell the stench of uncertainty even from the front. 

“So, Stiles is here?”

“Yeah, yeah." Scott sounded relieved with her understanding. "We moved here yesterday. He said it was important that I come talk to you today. Protocol and all. I mean, it's my first time doing something like this, so I don't really know what's up and all.”

“Honey, that much is clear." So even Laura was loosing her patience, Derek grinned. "But who is Stiles?” there was just a tiny bit of bite to Laura's question. 

“He’s … Stiles. Just... my friend?”

There was another pause and Derek wondered what the hell was wrong with the kid. 

“Alright, let's try this again,” Laura asked, the soul of patience. “What is Stiles.” 

Scott must have been confused, because Derek could hear Laura sigh before clarifying “Is he a werewolf?”

“Ohhhhh. No. Not that. He said that he never would be. I asked him once. He actually seemed a little sad about that.”

Laura's “Uh huh” sounded as skeptical as Derek felt. 

“Alright then. Scott. Let’s just wrap up here. Do you have any nefarious intentions during your stay here?”

“Oh, no, no. Stiles said our university years would be pretty calm. I mean, aside from the schoolwork, but he said that that would be fine as long as I kept to the classes we planned. Oh, there will be, you know, the occasional supernatural visitor that might need to be put down, but those all work out. And I don’t think I am involved in most of those. So, no worries really.”

“Honey, why don't you bring Stiles by at some point?”

“I'll tell him that you'd like that.”

“But you won't bring him,” Laura was leading Scott out of the back and toward the door of the store. 

“I think from how he was rambling on this morning that he already met the three of you.” Derek’s eyes narrowed at kid and Scott shuffled nervously. “So I am guessing that he'll probably ... accidentally wander in here at some point with or without me. If it happens, it'll have happened, as Stiles always points out.

\-----

-Second Contact, August 22-

The next actual contact Derek had with Stiles could barely even be called that. It was more of a state of acknowledged(ish) mutual observation without any actual interaction. 

It was Tuesday and on Tuesdays afternoons Derek went to a local café just off the main street to read. Because for whatever insane reason that Derek chose not to question, the café owner had picked that day to have the university’s music students perform. 

This particular Tuesday, Derek heard Stiles and Scott as he was walking toward the café. Turning to look for them, intrigued by whatever was going on, Derek saw flurry of limbs across the crowded street. Scott was holding Stiles back as Stiles made a fruitless effort to move toward Derek. Stiles was squirming under Scott’s grasp, making ardent gestures in Derek’s direction, and whispering aggressively "But that's _him_. Are you seriously trying to tell me that we haven’t met him yet?” 

Scott glanced in Derek’s direction, hissing at Stiles in what Derek could only assume was supposed to be too quiet for Derek to overhear, “You're sure it’s him? That's the guy from the shop. And you’re telling me that’s him. Of course it is. You couldn’t have…” Scott stopped when he noticed Derek watching them and Stiles started pulling him away. 

“Dude, if that’s when this is then don't look back again! He gives us strange looks for this one for a while. I think. Perhaps it was for something else. There’s always something, isn't there?” Stiles paused and looked straight at Derek again, flying in the face of his own advice, his expression melancholy. 

Derek leaned against the café’s wall and just watched, curious about what the hell was going on. They certainly didn't look threatening. If anything, Scott seemed unnerved by Derek.

Stiles made an aborted move toward him before again and Scott grabbed his arm. “Scott, man, it doesn’t make sense that I don’t know him. I don’t really remember not knowing him here. I mean, a time or two sure. But it had to have happened soon. How can I not remember when I met him?”

It appeared to be Scott’s turn to try and pull Stiles up the street in what was perhaps the most bizarre progress Derek had ever seen. Derek guessed that Scott’s problem was not so much moving Stiles as moving him along without yanking him over. 

“It’s probably something like with me and Kindergarten. From my side it was weird. You remember? You walked over and informed me that we were in kindergarten now, which meant we were friends who took care of each other.” Scott was finally having success with carting Stiles away from Derek. “You know you gave that speech to me three times, right? You said you couldn’t remember if it had already happened.” 

“But Scott, we are here, right? I mean, right now?”

Scott smiled and moved his hand up to Stiles neck, giving him a slight shake as if he were a puppy. “Yeah man, we're here. But I'm still waiting for you to tell me where we are going … and don’t tell me in that café. We're not ready for that café.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ok.” Stiles took a breath, looked around. “Something grounding to the moment. Because sometimes when the mocking bird sings you'd think that it was calling from the cage and it sounds so loud. But then it’s all a mosaic. Man, we should do that. A table for the living room - this is clearly the place for it. We need an art store.”

“Alright then. Mosaics it is. Any idea where the art store is?”

“There is that one Allison loved.”

“Dude, place yourself. We don't know an Allison.”

“We don’t know Allison yet. Fuck, Scott, how long have we lived here?” 

“Three days man. Did you even take your medication this morning?”

“This particular morning? I ... did you hand it to me?”

“Stiles.”

“Then likely not. You give me my medication while we live in the Escalona Drive house.”

“So, no hope? Shit then. Let's go to the art store.”

Stiles took one look back in Derek's direction, his mouth pulling down into an exaggerated frown. 

\-----

-Third Contact, August 29-

It was Tuesday again and Derek was in his seat at the café. The morning had been dreadful, but now he had his novel in front of him and his tea next to him. Things were back in their right place. For the most part. Derek was relaxing, letting his shoulders unwind when he smelled Stiles walking in. 

Derek looked up as the scent carried to him, found a brilliant smile directed at him. Open and so very thrilled. Stiles smelled delighted as he moved over with all of the confidence of acceptance and let gravity pull him into the chair next to Derek, bag dropping to the ground. 

“Am I glad to see you Derek. My day, man, I got twisted up again and went to the wrong class. But you,” Stiles smiled. He reached forward and picked up Derek’s cup, inhaling and then sipping it, he frowned down at it. “Lavender today? Was something stressful?” Derek stared.

“I guess so with the whole non-verbal state. Look, you always end up telling me what it was. So, given how twisty today is, why don't you just go for it. I really am not sure of the schedule you're on at the moment. Which, you know, is why you come here. Or why I come here. Maybe you came here before we met? But we've probably already had this conversation several times and I don't want to bore you,” Stiles tapped his fingers on Derek’s cup. “So, so. Lavender. Laura being difficult?”

Derek reached forward and pulled the cup out of his hands. Stiles looked at him, surprise sweeping across his face as his eyes darted to the table. His brow drew together in confusion and then his eyes widened, mouth falling open into a drawn out “shiiiit. You didn't get me a drink.” Stiles hummed briefly, lips pressing together. “That means that this is not ... can you smell if I've taken my medication today?” he asked, leaning forward, chair almost tipping over under him.

Derek's eyebrow shot up. “No. No medication today” he finally answered slowly.  
Stiles grinned, not the full smile from moments before, but a small thing. “Yeah, yeah. Always with the jokes.” He leaned back in his chair for a moment, fidgeting. 

“Alright then,” he sighed, “I guess I gotta go. See you around and all that.” He picked up his bag and wandered out the door, muttering something about timing and missed opportunities.


	2. Reality or a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles may remember what happens next, but that doesn't diminish how much he loves the experience of a sleepless night. Pre-dawn hours like this go in his pile of good.
> 
> April 2014 - minor textual changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' POV of a 4.30am experience.
> 
> Not the ones I've had, but to give you an idea - http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2008/09/the-baked-brownie-spiced-up/

The heat from the ovens pushed against Stiles' face, making the skin across his cheeks feel as if was tightening across his cheekbones as he opened the back door of Derek’s bakery. He stood in the entry for a moment, inhaling deeply, pulling in the familiar smells of yeast and cinnamon. It was overlaid at the moment with the deep, almost floral scent of cardamom, making Stiles’ mouth water. It smelled heavy, mixed with chocolate and Stiles took a moment to appreciate the combination. He could almost taste it in the air. 

Stiles shook himself, trying to unsettle the exhaustion that ate at his concentration. Moving through the door, he rounded the corner to enter the kitchen proper. He had to blink his eyes shut as the bright lights hit him, stinging after the low streetlights out on the dark streets. Stiles could feel his heart rate slow, feel the base line endorphin rush as he caught sight of Derek. A smile split Stiles’ face and Derek raised an eyebrow at him. 

Derek was standing, his arms covered in flour almost to his elbows, fingers buried in the dough on counter. His body was angled toward Stiles, eyes tracking him as Stiles shuffled his way over, glancing in bowls and the huge rotary oven as he moved. 

Stiles hooked his chin over Derek’s shoulder, wrapping his arms briefly around Derek’s middle, letting his finger tips trace over the course brown cotton of the chef’s coat. As Derek relaxed back into him, Stiles felt like the muscles in his own back were unwinding and some of the exhaustion from a sleepless night skittering off.

Stiles murmured a good morning, pressed his nose into Derek’s neck and inhaled another breath, this one tinged with the lavender in Derek’s soap and the flour he was working with. Derek turned back to his kneading and Stiles drifted away. He flipped the switch on the electric kettle, pulled the coffee mill over, measured out the beans and opened the jar of cardamom pods, wanting the taste to match the smell. 

“Don’t add any today” Derek’s voice sounded rough, like they were his first words of the day, grating over a raw throat. Stiles hummed his acknowledgement, closed the jar. He evidently needed to make tea as well then. He shook his head at himself. He spoiled Derek. Spoiled him rotten, making tea for him and all. 

Stiles told Derek as much, explained that Derek was particularly lucky that Stiles was capable of such attention to detail that he could even make the right tea for Derek when he needed it. Derek was braiding the dough when the kettle dinged at him, when Stiles laughed as the steam curling out of Derek’s teapot hit his face, leaving a trail of moisture and the smell of gunpowder green tea. He ground the beans for his own coffee, while he let the tea go through its first steep before pouring it out. He always felt like it was a waste to pour the first pot down the drain, but he'd tried the astringent liquid at some point and it was too much for anyone to drink. He watched as the first pot washed away down the drain, reaching down to trace the liquid swirl as it disappeared. Stiles boiled another round of water to steep the leaves again, this time with fresh mint, and a teaspoon of honey. 

Stiles placed a cup at the edge of Derek’s workspace before drifting with his own carafe of coffee and ceramic cup over to his stool, standing forlornly just out of the way. He ran his fingers along the cool surface of the steel counter, playing with the ridges where someone had once lost his temper and let out a little claw. It was the reason, he assumed, why this counter piece had been shoved out of the way. 

He settled into his spot, swinging his legs slightly, breathing in deeply, letting his chest expand and contract, chasing the smells in the air. He pictured them filling the tiniest bronchioles in his lungs, imagined his chest was a set of bagpipes, before he started telling Derek about his course work. Described how he had gotten lost in images of dragon fish and frill sharks. 

Stiles reached for his coffee, testing the temperature with his first sip, closing his eyes as the taste of the dark liquid run across his tongue. The flavor and the heat combined into a velvety taste, making his tongue feel heavy in his mouth. 

When he opened his eyes, Derek was crowded into his space, holding out two cardamom brownies, still warm from the oven. Stiles took them reverently, curling his fingers around the plate and cradling it to his chest, lip digging slightly into his sternum. 

Derek was waiting, watching him closely as Stiles set down his coffee cup and broke off a corner of the brownie. Stiles’ skin tingled under the expectant gaze, but burned when he took his first bite. Stiles toes curled in his shoes at the tastes of the cardamom and chocolate mixed with a pinch of chipotle pepper to give it lift. “Shit, Derek.”

Derek’s smile was wolfish over him, his eyes glinting. “That’s what I was looking for” he told Stiles, leaning forward to chase the taste in Stiles mouth. 

Stiles had had – would have – hundreds of mornings just like this and he loved them. Liked remembering each of them, the way that the memories of each morning piled up on each other. But he adored living these mornings, the experience of flavors chasing each other across his tongue as Derek’s hands tightened around his waist. The moment it happened was always the best.


	3. To Know you is to Love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tries to understand and Scott gives him an ear full.

-Fourth Contact, August 30-

The next time Derek saw Stiles was in the middle of the night at the tail end of a disastrous run. Laura’s pack rarely met with problems in the small university town. They were well inside the boundaries of Hale territory, barely forty-five minutes by car from the main family house. Peter had lived here for years monitoring the occasional supernatural visitor before Laura had moved in and taken over, Derek trailing in her wake. 

Nonetheless problems did crop up. With such a high number of people coming and going, the occasional problem was arguably unavoidable. Peter certainly claimed as much. It was why supposedly why he'd requested Laura move up in the first place.

Still, however unavoidable problems might be, getting shot and poisoned invariably left Derek feeling disoriented. He hated the feeling.

Derek was trying to move to safety, to get his phone out and call Laura for a pick up. His head was spinning as he stumbled through the tree line next to the highway. He didn’t remember coming out this far. But, as he finally got a grip on his phone, a car was speeding toward him, screeching to a halt next to him. 

He got a rush of Stiles’ scent as the door was pushed open. And there Stiles inexplicably was, telling Derek to “Get in, get in, I think we’re in a rush today.” 

Not really sure what else to do, Derek got in. Stiles pulled away immediately, asking as he jerked the wheel for a sharp u-turn “Man, what were you doing out here anyhow? I always wondered.” 

Derek's breath hissed as he bumped the door. Stiles glanced over and then fumbled with his phone. “Laura,” he was saying into the receiver, his voice pitching slightly high, anxiety drifting off of him. “Derek's been shot.” Stiles kept talking and under his voice, Derek could hear his sister demanding Stiles' identity and location. “Other side of town. I think. Because we went to the vets. The car didn't agree with Derek” each sentence was punctuated by a turn and they were pulling up. Derek could hear an engine turn over on the other end of the line as he passed out.

 

\-----  
-Fourth Contact continues, August 31-

“No, no,” Stiles persisted “I didn't cut your arm off. That's not how it happened.” The saw in Stiles' hand hung almost dejectedly. In his daze, Derek wondered if it wanted to be used. 

He stared at Stiles, tried insisting, tried arguing, but Stiles was adamant. 

“I am sure that I didn't. You always have two arms. Laura got here in time and dented the doorframe,” he told Derek as Laura came pushing into the room, hand digging into the door jam. 

 

\-----  
-September 1-

Derek hunted down Scott. It was simple tracking him to the university library, easier than it should have been. Evidently there was a limit to what Stiles had taught him, because Scott appeared to be lacking any concept of scent. 

And there Scott was, at the end of his pungent trail, hunched over a table in the back of the second floor stacks. Derek came up behind him, waiting for him to turn. Scott didn’t move, didn't twitch, didn't notice another werewolf looming. He really should have. 

Derek felt suddenly, irrationally annoyed and he half growled out his name. Scott spun immediately around, looking vaguely terrified when he saw who was behind him. Derek considered playing with him, toying with a wolf who was still so human for all of his control. But then he wanted something from the kid. Instead of baiting him, he turned his hands up in a placating gesture and asked “What is wrong with Stiles?”

Scott’s face scrunched up slightly. “Man, you are going to have to be a little bit more specific. Because I could say nothing, or I could point to any number of things. So many things," Scott tapped a pen against his front teeth, seemed to be thinking about the myriad problems Stiles dragged with him before he shook himself and moved on "But, he’s perfectly healthy, if that’s what you’re getting at? His medication isn’t for some sort of disease or anything.”

“He keeps talking about things in the past tense that haven't happened.” 

“Ah, right ...” Scott sounded nervous. “Don't worry about that ... he ... does that. Not enough sleep, forgot his drugs. It gets bad when he gets scared or just nervous really. He slips ... a lot.”

“Slips?”

“Like I just did,” Scott muttered, looking wild, starting to shove his computer into his bag “I have got to go. Time waits for no man and all,” he started sidling around Derek, his voice dropping to a mutter “except perhaps one,” he glanced up, horrified, and bolted, abandoning the books spread across the table.

\-----  
-Fifth Contact, September 2-

Derek couldn’t say he was proud of it, but when Laura said she wanted to know what the hell was going on with those two and Peter began to make comments about the possible danger of untethered seers and werewolves, Derek volunteered to follow them. His surveillance was ridiculously easy as neither ever seemed to be aware of their surrounding. Derek started to wonder how the hell a lone werewolf and associated human had survived this long. 

It didn’t take him long, however, to revise his opinion of their observational skills. The second time he followed them out to what they clearly considered their corner in the library. 

“When are we at?” Stiles was asking Scott as Derek positioned himself at a table near them. 

Scott glanced up from his homework, “date or event?”

“Event. How far are we?”

“The chart you hung on the wall indicates that we are in the 'hunted' stage.”

Derek could hear the smile in Stiles voice. “I liked that stage,” Scott mumbled ‘this’ under his breath. “Not as well as I like going to the bakery ... I still can’t, can I?” Scott answered to the negative. “That's too bad, because he makes these scones with orange and clove I sort of crave right now. Fortunately, this craving won't kill me.” Stiles got a rather dreamy expression on his face. Scott kicked him under the table. 

Stiles sighed, and turned back to his books. “But it is sort of nice to be tracked so carefully. Makes me feel protected.”

Scott looked up at him again. “How does it end?” he asked.

“End? it doesn't. You’re always a werewolf. Except for those years when you weren't, but given that we’re here and you’re a werewolf now, we went through those already. You make an awesome wolf man. Although you need to work harder on your chemistry grade. You do pull it up and to have done that, you got to work man.” 

“You never can answer straight.”

“I do though! I just told you. I always tell you. I promised I would.”

 

\-----  
-Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Contact, September 2-6 -

Sometimes Stiles would reek of medication and smile slightly, walk straight by him. Other moments his smell would be clear, tempting, and Stiles would get that smile, walk up to him and lean in. He would talk, sometimes reach out to touch Derek or take his food. During those moments - never long - he always seemed to think that Derek was something amazing. Something his. 

Derek didn't tell anyone. And it never seemed to happen near the family. They began to comment, however, on the smell, the repetition of it on his clothes. They were right to be concerned, Stiles was growing on Derek. 

 

\-----  
-Ninth Contact, September 7-

It was Thursday and Derek decided to chance it. Went to the café and bought a cup of coffee as well as his tea and set himself to reading. Stiles breezed in half an hour later and threw himself down on a chair. No medication in his smell today. 

“Man, fuck, cold. Why is it cold?” Stiles whined, leaning forward and taking the tea. He grinned at the taste. “Happy days then” he sing-songed, handing back the tea. Stiles picked up his own coffee without a thought and asked “Something’s going right for you today?” He watched Derek as he took a sip, and then grimaced. “A little late today, I guess, if it's this tepid”, he shrugged and then took a gulp. “So what is that made you happy today?”

Derek smirked, curious. He didn't know what to say and he didn't want to break this. He wondered if he could keep this going, keep Stiles looking at him like that.

Stiles shifted forward with a grin and put his hand on his shoulder, leaning forward for the world like he was going to move in closer, Derek's eyes flicked to his hand and just like that Stiles was pulling away. “A little early then” he said, dripping with disappointment.

 

\----  
-Tenth Contact, September 9-

The next time, Derek didn't glance at Stiles hands when he touched him, didn't tense. And the coffee was hot. Same tea.

“Ah, it's me, isn't it?” Stiles asked, this side of gleefully. “Derek, Derek” he said, shaking his head, “You are always amazing, my knight in shining armor. Or black fur. Who knows really why anyone would trust a knight in shining armor. I wouldn't. But then I never meet anyone in shining armor.” Stiles grinned again and scooted his chair closer, leaned his forehead again Derek's shoulder “You always calm me down” his fingers buried themselves in the sleeve around Derek’s elbow before one hand trailed down and curled around his hand. 

“I lost track again today, you know.”

“Well,” Derek said slowly, “You didn't take your medication.”

“No, I didn't. But that stuff ... it makes everything seem so depressing. It’s so much harder to see how much bigger the pile of good is than the pile of bad.” Derek snorted and Stiles grinned up at him. “Dude, I’m serious. Going to class and listening to the lectures in order, knowing I know the rest of it, but just can’t remember right now. And everything’s so muted. It’s like I’ve just taken a puff from a cigar and there’s a layer of smoke on my tongue that I just can’t get rid of. I actually forget how bright colors can be. It’s not natural. So very far from normal.” His hand demonstrated how unfortuante it was, pushing away at the air 

Derek took a chance, reached out and put a hand on Stiles neck. “Most people would think that neither of us are natural.”

“Most people don’t understand how propulsion works or know that olfactory molecules exist.” Stiles rolled his head back on Derek's shoulder to smile up through his lashed. 

His eyes drifted shut and Derek didn't move. After a moment, Stiles opened one eye to look at Derek “When are we at for you?”

“You haven't moved in yet.”

Stiles made a face. “That sucks. I wanted to go home with you. Do we do that yet at all?”

Derek frowns slightly “No,” he drew out slowly. His eyebrow twitched “Are you suggesting that we do?”

“Only if we're there yet, but from the eyebrows, we aren't. That really sucks.”

“Yeah” Derek hummed. Wondered if he could take it back, take Stiles home. 

“But, you're having a good day, so there's that.”

Derek agreed, tracing his thumb along Stiles’ jaw. He was definitely having a good day.

 

\-----

Scott was sitting outside his apartment building when he got home. His eyes focused for a moment on Derek's shoulder where Stiles had leaned against him. 

“He thinks you know him” Scott said, pulling himself to his feet. Derek wondered for a moment if Scott's all too human movements were a product of sharing a pseudo-pack with a human or if he just took that badly to being a wolf. 

He didn't ask. “Why are you here?”

Scott blushed “I met Allison today and, she, well, I'm taking her out on Friday,” Scott looked like Derek was supposed to care. 

“Right, of course ... shit, this must be what Stiles feels like ... without the memories” he looked at Derek and then at the door. Derek stared back. “Do you think we can ... sit ... somewhere? This is awkward for me. I know that we'll be pack and all, but man, I'm not Stiles.”

Derek raised an eyebrow 'pack?' but he turned and led the way to a small diner at the corner. 

“Pack?” he demanded once they were seated. 

Scott looked embarrassed. “Look, Stiles keeps talking to you when he hasn't taken his medication. So, you have to know something by now. You already knew something when you asked me about it a week ago.”

Derek stared until Scott fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don't know what he's said. Normally he's ... better ... around people. That aren't you. He seems to loose control around you, doesn't make an effort, doesn’t care when he is. You have no idea how frustrating it is to convince him he can't just head to your place after breakfast. 

“Which some people think is creepy, I know. But Stiles is really good with details and he used to keep partial track of when he is by what his body looks like. But now he's fully grown and he's evidently going to look pretty much as he does now for the next five or so years. During which time we get through college you two ...” Scott waved a hand vaguely at Derek “I, meanwhile, meet Allison.”

“Who is?” Derek prompted when Scott went quiet and a smile spread across his face. 

Scott winced. 

“Alright, so here is the thing. Stiles and I became friends when we were in Kindergarten. He was four, walked up to me and asked me if we were friends yet. It was really easy to accept his ... idiosyncrasies ... back then. As a kid, time is flexible. Five minutes in the corner is a different thing than five minutes playing Mario Kart. It's so dependent on if you are playing with a truck or in time out, you know what I mean?” 

Scott waited for confirmation before resuming “So, when Stiles would tell me things, it was easy to believe him. And they were always true. I didn't always get it until later, but he doesn't lie. I've wondered before if he can.

“But, anyhow, Stiles told me when our voices were cracking that we would always be friends, but that when I met Allison things might get a little rough between us for a bit. I would be obsessed and you would have problems with her. But, it would all work out in the end and I would be pack.

“And fuck if I knew what that meant then. He'd been telling me since we were in Kindergarten that I was or would be a werewolf. I thought it was a game. I didn't realize they ... we ... were actually real until I was bitten.”

“Stiles told you when you were five that you would be a werewolf.”

Scott nodded and raised his palms. “Yeah ... yeah he did and he didn't seem to think that it was a big deal when it actually happened. He just showed up at my house a few hours later and told me that he'd finally gotten stitches across his forearm. Which for him evidently meant that it was time to start chaining me up on the full moon.”

“What.”

“Yeah ...” Scott looked amused. “You know, he forgot on the actual day of my first full moon that we hadn't done it all before. He was surprised that I was scared. Kept going on about how great at this I _was_. 

“When I tried to snap at him, he pet my head. Laughed and told me not to play games. I ... well ... he told me that I see him as pack and wouldn’t hurt him. I don't know how pack works exactly, I haven’t been part of a 'normal' one yet, but he’s right that I can't seem hurt him” at Derek’s sharp look Scott hurried on with “not that I’ve tried again.” 

Derek twitched involuntarily. And Scott shifted nervously. 

“Anyhow, the point of all this, is that you and Allison have always been like strange guiding forces or something... like the Easter Bunny I suppose ...”

“Did you just compare me the Easter bunny.”

Scott went white. “No man, no ... I mean ... yes ...” 

Derek rolled his eyes, “Just tell me who Allison is.”

“Allison ...” Scott smiled again, grinning soft and lazy, and Derek thought he might be starting to get it. 

“Stiles ... man ... when he first told me about her, I thought he was making her up. He told me at length the first night he chained me up. It was part of how he calmed me down. When I finally convinced him it was my first one, he just leaned against the wall next to me, scratching behind me ears of all things. Told me that my anchor would eventually be this girl I wouldn't meet for years. That she would have brown hair cascading around her face and big, gentle eyes.” Scott paused, clearly picturing her face. “Dude, he was right. She’s exactly like he said. She's ...” Derek growled and Scott blushed. 

“Yeah ... so, he also said you would hate her at first and that I really needed to tell you about her so you didn't ... you know ... kill her or me ... or something. He wasn't sure what you would have done if I didn’t tell, because you didn’t do it and I did tell - am telling - you. Stiles’ isn’t great with counterfactuals.” Scott took a loud breath in and then, in a single exhale, breathed out “butshe'sthedaughterofhunters.” 

Silence spread across the table. Scott looked terrified. “So” Derek started “you are saying that your arguably insane friend taught you how to be a werewolf and that the woman you are now planning on using to keep yourself in check is a hunter'' the incredulity dipped ominously. 

“No, no. She’s not a hunter. Her parents were, or her dad is. You see, her mother got bitten on a hunt when she was fourteen and then killed herself to avoid the ‘curse.’ So Allison swore off hunting and is now in some sort of inter-species peace movement. I just joined.” 

Derek stared at Scott. “Of course you did.”

“Stiles said you wouldn't be happy about it.”

“I'm not.”

Scott shrugged. “Yeah. There’s a lot he says I’m not happy about either, but he's always right. I got used to it.”

“How are you ok with this? Have you ever had to go up against a hunter? You think that even if she is what she claims that her family won’t come after you once they know what you are?”

Scott looked embarrassed again and Derek began to wonder if it was a default expression. “Well, no, I mean, Stiles takes care of those things. It’s one of the things that he doesn’t say too much about. There is a lot he just sort of assumes I know and ... sometimes it's nice not to know and he just sort of ... tells me when I have to do something.

“I don't really get it, but even when he can't tell what day it is, he always shows up when he needs to.” 

“But he didn't stop you from being bitten.”

“No” Scott frowned “he didn't. And didn't understand why I should possibly be upset that I turned. He just told me that I usually was a werewolf and a great one at that. Every time I’ve almost done something dreadful he’s just sort of shown up. Like when I almost attacked my mom he was just suddenly in the room telling me not to be ridiculous. He told my mom I’d had a bad day and took me for a run. 

“He told me in the car that I would never hurt her so I might as well not try because it wouldn’t work” Scott turned his cup in his hand. “It was weird, but knowing I wouldn't hurt her made it a lot easier around her.”

Scott played with his tea for a moment and then looked seriously at Derek “But you have to understand that Stiles often won’t tell you most things about either the future or the past unless you ask. He talks and talks, tells stories about orca whales and debates how Iron Man is actually Icarus and so it's no surprise that he falls again and again … He convinced me to jump off a building after that one.”

“Why.”

“So that my bones would break and heal. So that I would know it was painful and not put myself in dangerous situations. Said that sensorial experiences were the best for learning. That you had to do it to know how it felt. You could remember something all you wanted, but doing it was the best part.”

“Why are you telling me all of this now?'

“Because I met Allison. He told me that after I met her, we’d be spending less time together during the ‘honeymoon’ phase, but that I shouldn’t worry about it. You’d take care of him.” Scott looked worried. “But he once told me that he didn’t remember actually meeting you, which means that he never has this conversation with you. I don’t want him to get hurt. Along side my mom, he’s my family.” 

Derek rubbed his forehead and raised his hand for the check. “You need to talk with Laura – about Allison and the pack. Don't talk to her about Stiles, I’ll do that” he waited until Scott nodded his head vigorously before paying and ushering him out.


	4. The long, slow process of reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That in which Derek adjusts and Stiles thinks they live together.

Derek was waiting in the coffee shop, coffee steaming on the table. Derek was curled in his chair, tea in hand. Stiles came in and Derek smiled, but kept reading. The bag hit the floor and arms came around his neck. “Derek, Derek,” Stiles said into his hair, pressing his nose behind his ear. Derek shivered. He could hear the smile spreading across Stiles face with the gust of breath that escaped his lips as he huffed a laugh. “That's how it is, is it?” Derek shrugged. 

“You know, this is one of the reasons I’ve always loved you” Stiles sang out, coming around and throwing himself down in his fluffy, ratty armchair, leaning back over the arm and tilting his head back at Derek. “No matter how long we’ve know each other, you're always so keen on me,” he smirked at Derek's raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah, we're early days yet ...” He frowned at Derek, “We are, aren't we?” he looked at Derek’s hands added "Because you aren't touching me.” 

“Not that long, no.” 

“Always a disappointment when that's your answer,” Stiles sighed dramatically and sat up. He leaned forward, “Well, you are reading _The Blind Assassin_ , so we don’t kiss today.” Stiles wrinkled his nose. “But it does mean that I tell you the story about that time with the witches.”

“What witches?”

Stiles look was derisive. “You know, that coven you have Laura took care of. Peter tells me about it. You wouldn't let me go with you, so I can't tell you the specifics. I suppose you were still in that phase when you didn't know what to do with me.” He reached out and jabbed his finger in Derek's chest “It's so much easier when you take me with you. Just keep that in mind. You know I can't remember it if I didn’t know it.”

Derek snorted a laugh and caught his fingers, holding them still in his right hand and moving the fingers of his left up Stiles' arm. The look on Stiles’ face surprised him, the utter relaxation. 

“The witches” Stiles’ voice broke on the word as Derek reached the inside of his elbow. “Peter told me that they were new, were recruiting. Laura convinced them this was not an area for it. She bit off one of witch's right thumb off to do it though.” Stiles shook his head as to shake off an ugly thought. “I think that negotiations took a while and the witch threatened to try to turn Scott into a familiar ... stupid woman really (not Laura, the witch). Not even the local cover wanted them here.”

Derek nodded, distracted by the look of his hands on Stiles skin. He tugged Stiles’ arms gently, pulling him forward until their foreheads touched. Stiles sighed, eyes drifting shut, leaning into Derek and asking with a hitching breath “Why are you moving so slowly today?”

“Because you love details. And doing small things lets you take them apart.” 

“Such a romantic. Always thinking of me.” Stiles eyes blinked open. '”Let's go home and watch a movie.”

Derek answered immediately, loath to let in a pause that might give him away.

“Alright, but you don't keep anything at my place yet,” he said and wondered about this change, wondered about the speed with which Stiles pushed him. 

“No, of course not. Not with that book, I don’t.”

“You remember when we are by what I read” Derek pulled back, watching Stiles . 

“It's all in the details man. It's one of the reasons we work. You call Laura while I stop home. We meet at your place and you make me chamomile tea because you thought I needed to calm down before putting on "A Boy and His Dog". Because, you know, classic science fiction keeps it real." For some reason Stiles held up a peace sign. "Then we go to sleep. It's great. I loved tonight and I am betting the experience will be even better than the memory.” 

\-----  
It went exactly like that with Stiles draping himself liberally over Derek’s couch during the movie and falling asleep. When Derek carried him to the bed, Stiles curled into him, pulling Derek's face into his neck and tucking his body tighter against his side. Derek let his hands trace down his sides. 

The next day, Peter and Derek watched Laura bite off a witch’s thumb when the woman was fool enough to threaten Scott. Laura's face looked something like embarrassed around her sharp teeth. At home she would mumble that she “wouldn't have done that if Derek hadn't told her what the human said. I just wanted to get it finished.” But the witches moved on and Laura asked Scott to officially join the pack because “this was getting out of hand.” 

\-----  
Derek let himself start showing up around Stiles. Let's himself appear in the university's halls after Stiles' classes let out, tracked him around town. And Stiles always, always had a smile. Took his hand and hummed most days. 

Because Derek found he wanted what Stiles thought they already have. He wanted the stability, the smiles that told him he was adored. He liked the lack of surprise, was pleased when everything he did seemed to be exactly right, already precisely what Stiles wanted him to do. He stopped being afraid of hurting Stiles, of disappointing him, of waiting for that other shoe to make its proverbial appearance with a bang.

And Derek learned that he hated the medication. How it muted Stiles somehow, tied him down. Those days, Derek took him home and wrapped him up in blankets, gave him soup, and put on movie after movie. Those days, Stiles stayed subdued, did his course work, and looked at Derek as if he wasn't sure what was going on. 

Derek asked him why he took it at all. “It helps me stay focused, helps me write papers without trying to cite books that haven’t been written yet. It makes it easy to follow a class. But you know, it makes me feel adrift, like I'm cut off from half of my memories I suppose. I look at you and have a hard time remembering all of the times we do this.” Stiles pauses and reaches out to press his palm on Derek's cheek. 

“Normally,” Stiles said with a wane smile from his blanket-cocoon “You're that favorite food that one adores because one's eaten it every weekend since forever. You see it, smell it, just think about it and you have to smile.” Stiles wiggled out of his wrappings “and then,” he smirks as he slides across the wood floor to were Derek was sitting in his plush living room chair. 

“And then,” Derek prompted quietly as Stiles crashed into his chair. 

“And then you get to eat the food and its always better than you remember it was. It’s always perfect, even when its burned, and always makes everything else better too.” Stiles pulled himself onto Derek’s lap as he talks, tugged Derek’s face toward his.

It's their first kiss and Stiles would never know it - knows it's early, but doesn't recognize a first. Derek doesn’t think he would care if he did know. 

\-----  
“Do we fight?” Derek asked after he's been bringing Stiles home for a month. Stiles laughed from his chair at the kitchen table. “All the fucking time.”

Derek frowned, cutting vegetables for their dinner. Perfect slices swept into bowls for later use.

“Why.”

Stiles looked at him, taps his pencil against his nose. “You know, Scott usually doesn’t want to know all of this.”

“I'm not Scott.”

“Nooooo.... you aren't that. I never had to knock you out because your partner is having twins.” Stiles snorted. 

“Twins, huh? Alison and Scott just broke up.”

“Yeah, likely. But, you know, they are one of those couples. Her family makes it hard, she tries to make them happy, she breaks up with Scott. They pine. It's gross. I get a lot of text messages from both of them. You get annoyed and call her up. I don't know what you say, but they have babies five years after they meet. I know Scott's working as an EMT when it happens.”

Derek shrugged. Figured expanding the pack would be a good thing. “And us?”

“Us?”

“We fight.” Derek reminded him, throwing mushrooms in a frying pan. "Do we break up?"

“Ah - yeah - we do. You go through these brief phases where you decide that you aren't what I need or that being with you might be bad for me. There is a guilt-trip phase in which you tell me everything horrible you've ever done to me. You get frustrated when I don't feel taken advantage of. We get back together and have wonderful make-up sex. I always like that part...” 

Stiles eyes danced for a moment, but he frowns as he continues “the bad ones are the fights during which I forget when I am and think I'm some-when else. Sometimes I hurt you with that. I'm always sorry on those occasions, which is eventually going to make me temporarily unbearable.”

“What kind of things.”

“It doesn't take away the pain, you know, to hear them in advance.”

“As I understand it, nothing changes anything.”

“Not that I know of, but I need to make sure you know that my telling you doesn't help.”

“I know, but I've never liked surprises.”

“No kidding. I don't know why your mother thought a surprise birthday for your ... 40 something-th? ... was a good idea, but man, you were not happy. I did enjoy the look on your face though.”

“What do I do when it happens?”

“You grabbed my hand and holed up with me upstairs for an hour before I could calm you down enough to go back down. We then are cake. You didn’t bake it, so it’s substandard.”

“Not the whole thing isn't so terrible then.”

“No, but you got annoyed that I didn’t warn you it was that day. I think that fact you knew it was coming sort of ramped up the horror when you realize it was finally upon you.” Derek laughed and Stiles threw a highlighter cap at him.

“What do you say to upset me.”

Stiles sighed, shoulders slumping inward. “So, do you know yet how I tell when I am?”

“Your body, your scars. Where we live, what book I'm reading, occasional charts on the walls.”

“Yeah ... there are points that are harder, because bodies don't noticeably change every day. Or because there is something distracting. There are things. You know?” Derek nods.

“Well, when certain things happen. Like when my dad dies." Derek froze and Stiles pauses. Answers "Heart attack," without any prompting question from Derek. "It's why I always want him to eat better. It doesn't help, can't help that, but I always figure it may have put it off somewhat,” He stared at the book in front of him, his fingers running up and down the edge of the page. 

“It gets bad for a bit. Because I don't necessarily know what side of that event I'm on. It's worse on the medication because then I try and remember. My life isn't happening all at once then and so it matters somehow. You'll have to tell me a few times, have to break the news to me when I try to ... call him or suggest we go down for the weekend. There will be a point when you couldn't do it again. You had Scott come over and took off for a bit. You told me you drove to Yosemite so you could scream.”

“But I come back.” Derek asked, crouching beside Stiles’ chair.

Stiles' smile broke out, a little watery but there “You always come back.”

Derek leaned in, breathed in the scent on his neck, felt his pulse under his fingers. “Do you leave me?”

“Well...” Derek felt his claws come out on the hand over Stiles’ pulse. Stiles giggled and told him to “use those constructively,” prompting Derek to stand and run them across the his scalp, down his arm. Stiles leaned back, letting his head rest against Derek's chest. Derek tweaked his ear gently.

Stiles laughed, “Yes, I stormed out a few times. Usually because you were trying to stop me from going somewhere with you. We argued, you tried to protect me. I stormed out and told you not to follow. You did whatever shit you didn't want me to do with you. I slept at Scott's or Laura's. Once at your Mum's. You slept outside the door or on the roof.”

“You come back?”

Stiles snorted, smacked his hand as if Derek was being ridiculous. “Dude, the me that I am, you never have to worry about that. I can't really say what happens. You know how great I am with chronologies. But, I assume after those episodes I wake up and don't know when I am. I remember a few suspicious mornings when you make pancakes and are particularly sweet to me.” Stiles tilted his head up and glared at Derek. 

“I make you pancakes anyway.”

“Yeah, you're good like that. It’s why I keep you around.”

\-----

When Derek had known Stiles for 100 days, he moved him in. Told Scott he was doing it. Scott who laughed and nodded, told Derek that the chart showed Stiles paying rent only up through the end of the month. Then Isaac would move in because he and Allison just weren't ready for that type of commitment, no matter what Stiles saw for them. Evidently, Allison wasn't used to Stiles yet. Derek resisted the desire to run his hands over his eyes and had Laura and Peter help him with Stiles' things while he was in class. 

Stiles didn’t realize he hadn’t already been living there. Just looked happy when Derek picked him up from class and took him home. Slung his arm through Derek's and told him about the wonders of hyacinth tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Margaret Atwood's _The Blind Assassin_ is a fantastic book, in my humble opinion.

**Author's Note:**

> There are mistakes toward the end evidently. They are mine. I don't have time to edit this at the moment. If you want to tell me that they are there, feel free - but tell me what they are as well.  
> I tried to fix some of the mistakes toward the end as of April 2014. No idea if I got them all, but it should be clearer.


End file.
